3. Receival :
CW: institutionalised slavery
The delivery man had left after opening the lid of the wooden crate for her. Lydia took a step closer. There, underneath the scrunched-up brown paper packaging materials with the Whumpee’s-R-Us-logo, was the prone form of a person. The boxie was lying on his side, knees drawn up to his chest, unmoving.
“Hi,” Lydia said, feeling slightly silly. “Welcome. Are you all right?” When no answer was forthcoming, she started to remove the twists of packaging paper. When she revealed the young man’s face, she realized with a shock why he hadn’t said anything. A heavy leather muzzle covered the lower part of his face and was tightly strapped to his head. The boxie looked up at her with grey, dazed eyes. “Hi” she said again, “can you sit up?” Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him up into a kneeling position. He came willingly, swaying a bit on his knees. He was dressed in black, a thin, long-sleeved t-shirt and thin, soft trousers, both emblazoned with the WRU logo.
“Here, let me get rid of that.” She reached behind his head to release the straps that held the muzzle uncomfortably tight to his face. She pulled the brown leather away and blinked in surprise. He was beautiful. A shock of fair hair, pronounced cheekbones, pale skin with hints of freckles. They are all beautiful, her mind supplied, they would not have been chosen into the program if they were not. Then, she remembered the instructions in the booklet. “Oh, sorry, just one moment.” She went to the sink and took a glass from an overhead cupboard, making sure that the water from the tap was cold before filling the glass. Returning to the box, she held out the glass. The young man just looked at her, and after a moments hesitation, she raised it to his lips. He drank eagerly until the glass was drained. “I’ll give you some more in a minute.” Looking down at the booklet, she mumbled “Percussive impact?” and then reached out to tap his cheek two times. He turned his face towards her and she nodded. “Seems okay. It says here that I should give you a bath. You can have a shower upstairs, is that all right?”
“Y-yes, mistress.” He said, a slight lilt to his accent. She smiled. “So you can speak, after all. That is good. But you don’t have to call me mistress. My name is Lydia.”
He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She made a face. “No, just Lydia is fine.”
He tried again. “Yes, Miss Lydia.”
She smiled at him again. “That will do for now. Do you need a hand to get up?”
He held up his hands and she could see that they were tied together with a black silk ribbon. Untying the bow, she found cable ties underneath, drawn so tightly that they cut into his skin. She frowned to herself. What was this company on about? Getting a pair of scissors, she returned to his side. The boxie flinched violently when she kneeled next to the box. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I will just remove these.” He held still as she cut away the cable ties. His feet were tied together in the same fashion. She released him and helped him to step out of the crate, but when he got out, he immediately sank to his knees, shoulders hunched.
“That’s all right” Lydia said. “Just take your time. We have all the time in the world.” She kept her voice and face calm, to hide her uneasiness. This was not what she had expected at all. She sat down on the chair next to the young man to let him get his bearings.
He looked up at her, froze for a moment and then tilted his head in a perfect imitation of a dog. The head tilt was smooth, practiced, perfect. Coquettish, even. But it was totally at odds with his facial expression. He smiled, but it was a smile that looked as well-rehearsed as the tilt. Behind the smile, in his eyes and in the corners of his eyes, was terror. The head tilt and smile said: Look how cute I am. His eyes said: Please, please, don’t hurt me.
On an impulse, she reached out to gently brush his hair away from his eyes. To her surprise, he melted instantly into her hand. He pushed into it, as if he were a cat. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the shadow of hurt in his eyes when she pulled her hand back. Just in case, she reached out to caress his head again. “You just have a rest for a bit, then we’ll get you cleaned up, all right?”
Tag list: @cupcakes-and-pain
